Twenty-seven

Emma woke early the next morning with her two familiar companions: hope and resolution. The dream of marrying the Earl of Darington may be gone, but she was accustomed to loss. She had weathered many a storm in her life, and she would weather this one too.

Emma dressed quickly, not wanting to linger in her farewells. She had only known the Earl of Darington for a few days—surely her attachment could not be too strong. Yet, she suspected what she had experienced with Dare was not something that came along often. No, it was a rare thing. And precious. And lost.

She pulled out her small Bible and penned verses for Dare and Kate. If she must leave, at least she wished to leave them with hope. She knew Darington would never pursue any sort of connection with her as long as his father’s murderer roamed free. Harcourt had gone undetected for over a decade. How long could he evade Darington? Months? Years? Would Dare ever bring him to justice?

The uncertainty of Darington’s quest made one thing clear. This would be where they would part ways. She needed to return to her original plan, which meant meeting her chaperone today in Portsmouth. So much had happened since she had left home, it was odd to think she was right on schedule.

No doubt Eustace would be looking for her, but he would have no reason to suspect she had gone to Portsmouth. Even if he had found her overturned coach, he could not possibly guess her plans.

Emma pasted on a smile and walked down to the foyer, where Kate and Wynbrook stood, holding hands.

“Am I to wish you every happiness?” she asked Kate.

Kate gave her a small nod with a rare smile.

Emma’s forced smile warmed into a real one. “I wish you and Lord Wynbrook all the joy in the world.” At least Kate had finally accepted Wynbrook’s offer of marriage. Emma was genuinely pleased…though not without an aching longing to become part of the family.

Emma continued to exchange pleasantries with Kate and Wynbrook, but her mind was on Darington. She had assumed he would see her off as well, but he was not present in the hall. Her stomach sank as she tried to attend to what Kate was saying. Where was he? Would he not even say goodbye?

Emma paused, looking around to see if he was coming down the stairs. He was not.

Wynbrook sensed her concern and leaned toward her with a conspiratorial grin. “Hope you don’t mind riding with Darington to Portsmouth. He’s off to take the fight to Harcourt and we have a dearth of carriages I fear.”

“Oh! I don’t mind.” Relief flooded through Emma followed by a rush of apprehension. She was to ride all the way to Portsmouth with him? It was to be a long and painful farewell.

She walked outside, the wind instantly tugging at her red cloak. It was not raining, but the blustery wind was having its way with anyone foolish enough to step outdoors. Darington stood by the open door of the carriage, solemn, grim, handsome. Her heart squeezed at the sight of him.

He helped her into the coach and she struggled to know what to say. Sally entered next, taking the seat across with an audible sigh. Emma had forgotten the presence of her sullen maid. Darington climbed in next, sitting beside her, but now all meaningful avenues of conversation were closed. Emma struggled to find something to say to Dare that could be expressed in the presence of her maid.

“So you travel to Portsmouth, my lord?” Emma asked, the formality sounding strange in her ears.

Dare nodded. “Harcourt is a man of the sea. The only way he could have evaded justice for so long was by leaving England. Portsmouth is the closest port that can handle a ship of any significant size.”

“So you expect to find him there?”

“We shall see.” His eyes were dark, but they blazed with emotion.

“I wish you well,” she murmured, not knowing what more to say.

“And I you.”

She was struck with the finality of the interaction. Were these the last words they would utter to each other? Dare turned to the window, staring at the gray landscape. She wished to embrace him one last time, but despite their proximity, there was no way to reach him.

Her heart splintered, close to breaking. She watched him from under the edge of her bonnet. His face was stoic, impassive. He was not one to let his emotions show, even if they had not had their unwanted witness.

The carriage bounced on the road, and her hands flung to her sides to steady herself on the seat. Her fingers brushed against his, their hands hidden by the folds of their respective outer garments. Slowly his fingers curled around hers, until his gloved hand was holding hers. It was everything they could not say. Whatever emotions she was feeling, they were shared.

She tried to draw comfort from the warmth of his hand, but instead, her chest tightened. This was her true love. And the last time she would ever see him. She squeezed his hand. He returned it. They passed the remainder of the journey to Portsmouth in silence, hand in hand.

The coach bumped with jarring rapidity as it reached the cobblestones of the Portsmouth streets. A few minutes later, it slowed to a stop before the weathered inn. They had arrived. Emma would say farewell to Dare and resume her own journey into the unknown.

“Forgive the rudeness, but it would be best if I am not seen with you,” said Darington in a solemn tone. “I do not know who is in the employ of my enemy. I will not put you in danger by being seen with me.”

Emma nodded.

“If anyone asks about the friends you stayed with, please do not mention my name or that of my sister. I fear it is not safe to do so.”

Emma nodded again, slower this time. Her heart was breaking and she could not even share her pain with anyone.

Emma stared at Dare, but he looked straight ahead with unseeing eyes. Was this all? Was this how they were to part? They were still holding hands; Dare had not let go. If anything he held on tighter.

“Sally, please take the bags in with the coachman and tell the innkeeper I would like a room,” Emma said to her maid in a brisk manner. She needed to be able to say goodbye without an audience.

Sally stepped outside and Dare reached across and pulled the coach door closed. The intensity of his gaze was fierce. She knew she was safe with him, even if he was not completely safe himself. Darington held himself rigid. She doubted the man knew how to relax. He was all angles and hard edges. Yet he still held her gloved hand.

“I… That is…” He struggled to express himself.

She wanted to help but did not know the words he could not find. She also struggled to put her feelings into cogent expression. Everything she wanted to say seemed wrong. She felt for him a powerful attraction, but should such a thing be acknowledged?

“I wish things were different,” Dare whispered. “Wish I could say something, but I ought not.”

“What would you say if you could?” She had to know.

“I’d say you ought not let the bastards run you off. You shouldn’t marry some American. You should marry me instead.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open.

“Shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered.

“If the offer of marriage still stands…” began Emma, but Dare shook his head.

“I do not want you to marry someone else, but I can’t make you an offer. Can’t let you get connected to me.”

“I am not afraid.”

“But I am. They killed my father and sent Kate and me to Fleet. I cannot think of what he might do to you. Best thing is to let you go.” Dare took a shattered breath. “Only thing is to let you go.”

“I could wait…”

Dare shook his head again. “Not fair of me to ask. Not safe until I kill him and any he had working for him. Don’t know how long that will take. Could be years. Don’t know if I’ll be coming back at all.” He bowed his head and leaned closer to her. “Sorry, but that’s the truth.”

Emma leaned toward him until the brim of her bonnet was almost touching his head. “If we are to be honest, then you must know I had decided to accept your proposal.”

“You did?” His eyes were wide.

“Yes.”

A look of hope sprung on his face only to be shattered a moment later. His shook his head. “There is no way we can be together. Damnation, but that is another reason to kill Harcourt. I am so sorry.”

“You have caused me no ill.”

“Then why are you are crying?”

He pulled his hand from hers, removed his gloves, and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. She blinked and more tears fell. She did not mean to cry but could not help it. Her heart seized, and she could not think of how she could continue on her journey to marry another when she was so much in love with the man before her.

“Please, please forgive me,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For this.” He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her hard. Heat surged through her and she felt weightless and limp yet empowered by the strange sensations building within her. She clasped her hands around him even as he drew her closer to him, wrapped in his long arms. This was their last moment together. Time suspended and everything seemed to stop. She did not dare even take a breath. The moment had to last forever. It was one perfect sliver of time when everything was as it should be.

And then it was over. He sat back and turned away from her. “Had no right.” He shook his head.

“But I’m glad you did,” she blurted out.

He turned to her, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“I must be turning into quite the wanton.” She attempted to smile but instead another tear traced a path down her cheek. How could she experience such a kiss and say goodbye?

“I must go,” he said but made no move to leave.

“Do be careful.”

“You as well.”

Silence grew between them, but neither attempted to move.

“Everything happens for a purpose,” said Emma, trying to make sense of the growing ache in her heart.

“Do you really think so?” It was an honest question.

“I’d like to.” Emma was honest. “I do believe God can use whatever hardship we face for good.”

“His good or our good?”

“His good is our good.”

“Do you really think so?” This time bitterness laced his tone.

“I do. I truly do.” Her answer remained honest.

One side of his mouth slowly drew up, but his eyes remained sad. “Then I also will try to believe. You are like none I have ever met.”

“And I have never met anyone like you.”

“I…I…” Dare stumbled over his words and paused, shaking his head slightly before continuing. Emma wondered what he censored himself from saying. “I wish you a pleasant journey.” He leaned forward again and kissed her on the cheek, his lips warm against her cool cheek.

Lingering in the coach was sheer agony, but she did not wish to leave. Her mind scrambled for some way that he could remain with her, but she knew it was not possible. He must go. And she must also.

“This is for you.” She handed him the verse she had chosen for him and boldly returned his kiss on his cheek. He pressed his lips together, the pain clear in his dark eyes. She quickly opened the coach door and jumped out, the cold wind stinging her face.

Tears sprung to her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She reached the entryway to the inn and turned back to wave farewell. The coach ambled away, the curtains closed. She doubted she would ever see him again.

She wiped more tears from her eyes.

Stepping into the inn, Emma took a deep breath. It was a large establishment with a brisk, businesslike feel. Voices could be heard coming from the common room, with the low rumble of conversations and the occasional peal of laughter. Emma felt at once how unequal she was to public viewing. Sally stood in the entryway before the wooden staircase, leading to the guest rooms upstairs.

“Has our room been acquired?” asked Emma.

Sally nodded.

Emma followed her upstairs to a comfortable room and dismissed Sally to get some food in the kitchen. She needed to be alone.

Emma tried to keep her emotions in check but could do so no longer. The tears fell hot and fast down her cheeks, another one appearing as soon as she wiped one away. She gave up and collapsed on the bed, letting the tears fall.